Like Rabbits
by kc creation
Summary: Misaki takes matters into his own hands.


**Like Rabbits**

Misaki counts the sound of Usagi-san's footfalls, "Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…" as the writer makes his way down the hall from the bathroom to his bedroom. The subtle click of the lights and the snap of the door closing behind him are all Misaki needs to let out the shaky breath that he didn't know he was holding, as the sheets above him tremble and his knobby knees knock together beneath their comfort.

His face is hot; palms sweaty as he listens to Usagi-san's fingers titter against the keys of his laptop through the wall. He thinks of what those fingers have done to him, where they've been, what they've made him do…

His erection throbs incessantly between his legs, standing tall and proud, bobbing slightly as he shuffles uncomfortably in the oven of his blankets and the serene darkness that's settled over his bedroom.

It's a balmy Tuesday evening in Mid-April and Usagi-san hasn't touched him in nearly a week.

It's not like he cares, really, but it's just _odd_, so unlike the man to leave him alone for an amount time that, to any normal human being, may seem short, but to him seems as if it's stretched over weeks and months and centuries. Usagi-san is usually all groping hands and wandering fingers, but lately, with the deadline of his newest novel creeping ever-closer, he's locked himself away in his bedroom, a constant, ominous shadow wandering through the halls and occupying his spot at the table during mealtimes.

It doesn't matter, honestly. He prefers it this way, actually. The less he has to deal with the dirty pervert and his lecherous, touchy-feely tendencies, the more at ease he will be, and the pulsing, painfully stiff problem nestled between his thighs has nothing to do with how strung up and sexually frustrated the writer has made him recently. No, definitely not. These kinds of things are perfectly normal for a boy his age!

Usagi-san coughs briefly. His voice is a low tremor through the thin walls and all the empty space of the apartment. The deep, rough quality of it sends shivers up Misaki's spine, straight through his stomach to his currently engorged and eagerly weeping arousal.

He whines meekly.

"Come on, body," he begs, squeezing his thighs together in a weak attempt to ignore his current frazzled state, and stifles a moan. It's not fair that shitty Usagi-san can get him so hot and bothered without even being in the same room!

"Don't do this to me! Don't make me do_ that_ in this pervert's house!"

But his hormones are resilient.

It only becomes more painful to sit still, so finally, with quaking fingers, he resigns himself to his unfortunate fate and grasps himself through the sheets and the soft cotton of his boxers, keening deeply.

Sweat beads at his temple. Usagi-san clears his throat through the wall, computer keys clicking rhythmically. Misaki's fingers seem to have a life of their own as they wind their way around his shaft as his wrist flicks and his teeth dig into the knuckles of his unoccupied fist.

In no time, he's worked himself into a sweaty, softly-moaning mess, shaking as he tries desperately to stifle the little noises that Usagi-san loves so much.

His other hand has somehow found its way under his t-shirt, which sticks to him like a second skin. With nervous fingers, he brushes over pert nipples, biting his bottom lips as a cry bubbles up in the pit of his throat.

His grip tightens, pumping himself faster and faster. Back arched, eyes screwed closed as he finally gains the nerve to pinch one tiny, reddened nub, he can't help but hiss at the familiar sensation as he imagines the feeling of a larger, colder pair of hands fondling him instead.

His cries grow louder and unrestrained, until finally, he unleashes a gasp that later he'll wonder in horror if even the downstairs neighbors could hear, but with the growing warmth that's currently taking residence in his abdomen, he can't quite bring himself to care.

There's a soft shuffling in the other room, but he's too far gone to fathom what it might be. He had the good foresight to lock his door just in case, but he's not sure he'd be able to stop himself even if Usagi-san burst into the room right then.

The quiet tapping of a certain author's footsteps is lost on him as he feels his chest tighten and his toes curl. Even as those little noises cease in front of his door, he doesn't take notice.

"Ah-"He huffs, brows furrowed, face painted scarlet as his thumb clumsily skims the head of his penis and precum weeps from the tip like some type of perverse fountain.

He thinks of Usagi-san's breath against his neck, hot and heavy as he thrusts that in and out of Misaki's abused backside. He thinks of the writer's silver tongue lapping at his nipples, tasting him and engulfing him in his heat, of his cold, cold hands running trails down his back as he pushes in, the comely way he scrunches his brows when he cums—

Misaki cries out, rolling his hips forward as his seed shoots into the cocoon of his boxers and he chokes on his emotions—the humiliation of pleasuring himself, the need for Usagi-san's touch.

"_Ah—ah—Usagi-san!"_

Light explodes before his eyes, every muscle of his being tensed as the warmth in his abdomen erupts into a full-blown fire. His throat constricts as his heart pounds in his shuttering chest, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as his lips spread in a silent scream and the whole world seems to turn on its side.

His back meets the cool comfort of his mattress with little more than the quiet creaking of the springs, muscles twitching. His senses gradually return to him, and he sighs deeply as a gentle knocking picks up at his door.

The tickling of his seed sliding down his thighs momentarily distracts him, but the knocking only grows louder.

"Misaki," a deep, husky and oh-so familiar voice calls through the barrier of his door, "Misaki."

He struggles to regain his composure, dizzy from the heat and the exertion of what he's just done.

"Ah—yeah?"

The soft baritone of Usagi-san's laugh is pleasant, but it sends a chill up his spine. When Usagi-san laughs like that, it's never a good sign.

"Uh, it's nothing," he chuckles, words dripping with an amusement that Misaki is positive is at his expense. "I was just wondering if you were okay. You were being awfully loud, you know."

Misaki blanches; totally mortified as he grasps desperately at any excuse he can muster.

"Oh, uh, I'm okay! I-I just… had a bad dream! That's all!"

He calls frantically, just a little too eager, and the sound of Usagi-san's laughter recedes until it's little more than a muffled chuckle through the walls and the subtle clicking of the keyboard picks up once more.

Misaki shivers. It's suddenly very cool as he pulls his sullen sheets about himself, intent to fall asleep and forget that this entire humiliating experience ever transpired.

The tense lines of his body slacken and his eyelids slide closed.

He thinks of Usagi-san's voice—not the usual, arrogant tone he uses during the day, but the tender whisperings in the night as he holds Misaki in his arms and the younger man feels safe enough to think, _'I might actually be in love with this person.'_

Too tired to comprehend much else aside from the inevitable approach of slumber, he catches, but doesn't quite register, Usagi-san's amused announcement of, "Oh, Misaki, you're so getting it when I finish this last chapter."

And maybe it's for the best, because Usagi-san likes Misaki the most when he's too surprised to be bashful.

_Fin._

_Okay, so my sister (who is nineteen, so don't go thinking I'm corrupting a minor or anything) started watching Junjou Romantica with me recently, and around episode two, during the sex scene that I suddenly found very awkward, she was like, "What are they doing?" to which I replied, "Uh, having sex?"_

_And her only response was an unabashed, "In the butt?"_

_My first reaction was to think, 'Where else?' but then… I laughed at her. And this story was somehow born. Funny how things happen._

_Also, I'm always at a loss as to how I should describe an orgasm. I mean, it's sort of like explaining what water tastes like…_

_Well, thank you so much for taking the time to read and please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you thought!_


End file.
